


omnia vincit amor

by blue--phantom (twilightscribe)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Background Relationships, Bisexual Female Character, Canon Compliant, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, F/M, Fluff, Mild Sexual Content, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic, Romance, Shorts, Unplanned Pregnancy, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 8,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightscribe/pseuds/blue--phantom
Summary: Omnia vincit amor, meaning "love conquers all."Shorts set in the lives of Inessa Adaar and Blackwall, otherwise known as Thom Rainier. Details their romance, their lives, their efforts to save the world, but mostly the little moments in between.





	1. feeling like a woman

Before the Inquisition, when she was simply Adaar – rarely _Inessa_ and never _my lady_ – she had dreamed of being able to own a beautiful dress of her own. Something delicate and pretty, that flowed to the ground and trailed as she walked; that showed she was a woman. She liked to picture what she’d look like in one of those lovely dresses that the noble ladies wore.

The reality is so much greater than her dreams.

She lets her hair down. It flows down her back in soft waves of wine red, highlighting her pale skin. It feels light, not having the entire mass of it braided and wound about her head. With it down, her face looks… softer, less severe. The sharp lines of her cheekbones and jaw are less pronounced, surrounded by soft waves of hair.

Inessa drops her hands from her hair, smoothing them over the front of her dress.

It still smells new.

It’s freshly delivered from Val Royeaux and Vivienne’s tailor there, with the promise of _more_ , and she cannot quite believe that this one alone is real.

Inessa bites her lip, admires the way that it flows about her. She touches the gilt embroidery about her waist with reverent fingers, admires the intricate details. It draws attention upwards, to her face, and shows off her curves.

Looking into the mirror, at her full reflection, her breath catches in her throat. She stares.

If she hadn’t known, Inessa wouldn’t have recognized herself.

For the first time since the courtyard declaration, Inessa feels like she _is_ the Inquisitor – a woman who stands against Corypheus and is fit to converse with the nobility. The woman who stares back at her is Josephine and Vivienne’s equal; she would not look out of place at court now.

Aside from the horns, of course. And her height. But she _looks_ like she belongs.

She swallows back the lump that’s formed in her throat. _She_ looks beautiful, feels like a woman and not just another Tal-Vashoth mercenary. It’s what she’s dreamed of since she was young and knew that she couldn’t have the life that she wanted and that others enjoyed.

Leaving her quarters, Inessa admires the flow and drape of her dress. The hem _just_ kisses the ground, so that she’ll need to hold it out of the way when she ventures out of the stone confines of the fortress to keep it from catching and becoming dirtied.

Before she enters the great hall, she pauses on the landing.

Her face cracks into a smile and she giggles. She gives into the urge and twirls, her dress swirling about her in a whirl of deep blue and gold embroidery.

First things first, she’ll find Vivienne and thank her. Without Vivienne, this would all still be a dream of hers.

She ducks out of her rooms, navigating her way through the hall which is littered with scaffolding and workers. Crossing it, she goes through another door, then up a set of stairs. Vivienne’s taken the set of rooms above the great hall for her own and it’s where she’s most likely to find her.

Vivienne’s tutting over fabrics with one of the workers when Inessa enters the room.

Everyone goes very still. Inessa straightens her back and strides in.

Vivienne dismisses the man with a wave of her hand, turning to Inessa with a bright smile on her face, “I knew you’d clean up well, darling.”

“I wanted to thank you,” Inessa says. Her face will hurt later, she’s smiling so hard. “For the dress. For everything.”

“It’s the least I could do. You’re the Inquisitor. You should be dressed accordingly; after all, you lead an army of the faithful outfitted by the coin of the nobility. You must set an example.”

“Of course. But…” She flushes, glances away, before looking back to Vivienne, “It’s been a dream of mine, since I was very small, to have such a beautiful dress. I never thought that – well, I wanted to thank you.”

Vivienne smiles back at her, “You’re welcome, my dear.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Vivienne rolls her eyes, though she’s still smiling, “You’re excused.”

She needs to show off her new dress to a certain Warden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 056\. Clothes  
>  **Words:** 710 words
> 
> Alright, so my goal with these is to post one a day until I've fulfilled all of the prompts. I... didn't want to get into another mess like with the canonfic that I'm working on for Dragon Age 2, but I still wanted to write about another one of my Inquisitors. So, I took the prompts from [ficlets100]() and am filling all of them. It's a challenge to myself to: a) keep myself writing on a daily basis by posting one ficlet a day; and b) to fill all of the prompts.
> 
> I hope that someone out there enjoys this. Because I know I sure as hell enjoyed it. I might do a similar challenge with some of my other Inquisitors, but we'll see how this one goes first.


	2. got me feeling so fine

_“Thank you, Warden Blackwall. But now where does this leave us?”_

She’ll admit it to herself alone, but Warden Blackwall is a handsome man. Oh, it will likely work out the same way that her flirting with Cassandra did: a polite, well-meaning rejection. She’s used to it by now. An apostate Vashoth like herself isn’t considered attractive.

Inessa is used to it. She tells herself that. Even though it hurts.

Nothing will come out of it and Inessa knows that. It’s a little insidious mantra that keeps up in the back of her mind. Still, she thinks, a little flirting never hurt anyone. Especially as she’s prepared for the inevitable conclusion.

“You’re oddly charming for a man I found wandering the wilderness.”

She leans against the wooden house beside where the blacksmith is. Blackwall’s settled into one of the many tents nearby, but he seems rather drawn to the area. Inessa is fresh from a meeting in the war room, a warm cloak tossed about her shoulders to ward off the chill of Haven. She’s left the hood down, however, as it has a habit of becoming tangled in her horns.

Blackwall smiles at her, a little half of one that quirks up the side of his mouth, “I always thought myself more odd than charming, but I’ll take a compliment from a lady. They’re hard to come by these days.”

She blinks. It feels like she’s missed a step on a flight of stairs. Inessa recovers quickly, “Compliments or ladies?”

He laughs, the sound charming and warm, “Both.”

_Oh._

This is… this is new. Her cheeks warm, she’s flushing. Inessa bites her lip, trying and failing to fight back the giddy smile she feels blooming up inside of her.

Blackwall’s smiling. She likes how it splits his face, looks so natural even in that mess of a beard. She’s reminded again that he’s a handsome man, a tad older, but she’s found she likes that in men. His eyes are alight, glinting with humour.

He doesn’t look at her like she’s little more than an ox.

“So is there something large and heavy you need moved?” he offers.

Inessa swallows back the giggle, smiling, “I think that would be a waste of your particular talents.”

“Oh, really?” She’s not imagining the flirtatious drawl in his voice. Her heart’s hammering rapidly against her ribs.

“You’re much better suited to standing in front of dragons while they try to eat you.”

She could definitely have been smoother with that.

Blackwall takes it in stride, however, and his smile never falters. Instead, he just looks even more amused than earlier. His voice is warm and it makes her shiver to hear, “I have to say, my lady, you’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met. I’m flattered you’d spend any time with me. I… enjoy your company.”

 _My lady_.

Her heart’s wildly thudding in her chest.

“Well, Ser Blackwall, I happen to find your company very… stimulating.”

He grins, perking up, “That so? I’m happy to hear it, my lady.”

Inessa could continue like this all day. She enjoys the flirting, the attention. Men look at her and see a qunari first and foremost, not a woman. And the others in her mercenary band always saw her as their mage. Adaar first, Inessa second. She fulfilled her father’s place in the band: the mage.

Of course, the illusion that it’s just the two of them is shattered soon enough.

“Herald, forgive my interruption, but Sister Nightingale is looking for you.”

Work again.

She smiles at Blackwall, “Duty calls. I do hope that we can continue this later.”

“I’d like nothing more, my lady.” And he even bows.

Inessa giggles to herself, following the scout away. She turns briefly, to wave back at Blackwall. She sees him raise his hand in farewell, before he vanishes behind the walls of Haven.

 _My lady_.

She really likes the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 083\. Angel  
>  **Words:** 655 words
> 
> Have some pre-relationship fluff. And my headcanons. There are going to be so many headcanons mixed up in here. I'm not even sorry about that.


	3. like sun on the rise

“For the lady,” Blackwall says, bowing low and offering a bouquet of slightly bedraggled wildflowers.

Inessa smiles, her cheeks hurting from the size of it, “How beautiful.”

It doesn’t matter to her that it’s a small bouquet. That the flowers are a little damaged, small, and scraggly. It’s a colourful gift, one brought from the heart, and it touches her deeply that he would actually go out and pick them for her _himself_.

No one has given her flowers before.

“Perhaps I should bring you roses, next time?”

She sniffs at the flowers, smile softening from their sweet scent, “No, these are perfect. Thank you.”

Blackwall returns her smile, eyes crinkling at their edges and she can’t help it and leans in and down to press a kiss to his temple.

His cheeks take on a flushed pink hue, but he still smiles, “You’re very welcome, my lady Inessa.”

Luckily for her, there’s an empty vase on the desk. Someone, likely a servant and it’s still strange to think that she has those, removed one of the grand arrangements that Josephine had received from some noble or another in gratitude. Inessa likes these better; they’re far more personal.

Call her sentimental, but her heart’s fluttering in her chest and she feels like a little girl all over again. She’s giddy, so much so that she has to resist the urge to squeal and clutch her little bouquet to her chest.

That would crush the flowers, though, and that’s the last thing she wants.

She sets them in the empty vase, fluffing them up a little and smiles.

“They’re lovely,” she declares. She turns to Blackwall, leans down and gives his lips a soft kiss. “And perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 007\. Rose  
>  **Words:** 288 words
> 
> There's no order to any of these. I'm sorry. ~~I'm really not.~~ But have some more fluff, cause at some point I'll be dumping The Feels into these and there will be angst.


	4. don't let me lose you

The cold hits her first.

She rolls over, trying to find some ghost of that heat. There’s nothing but the chill of the sheets.

Inessa shoots up, sharp shards of ice lodged in her throat. He’s not there.

 _He’s gone_.

_No. No not again!_

She’s trembling. His name lodged in her throat.

He can’t be gone.

 _Please don’t leave me again_.

Her hand fists into the cold sheets beside her. He was _there_. She remembered curling into him, around him. Their legs had been tangled together.

She sobs. It shakes her shoulders, drags claws up her ragged throat. It hurts. The tears come next, hot and wet on her cheeks, streaking down and she can’t contain them or her sobs with her hands. Her body aches.

There’s a gaping hole inside of her, gnawing as it grows wider and wider. It threatens to swallow her up completely.

It was too much to hope that this would end happily.

 

 

 

She bolts awake, his name on her lips, “Thom!”

He’s there, beside her, laying a hand on her shoulder, “I’m here, love. What’s wrong?”

He’s here. It was nothing but a nightmare.

“I… I… you weren’t…” Her voice shakes, cracks, and breaks. She can’t get the words out. Instead, she collapses into him, burying her face into the side of his neck. Her body shakes as she cries. It was all just a dream, she tells herself, nothing but a dream.

 _Her fears made real_.

Thom wraps his arms around her, running a rough, callused hand up her spine in a soothing motion. His voice is soft, full of sweet nothings and words of comfort. She lets his voice soothe her back into sleep.

In the morning, she will tell him of her fears. They will work through this together, just as they always done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 096\. Writer’s Choice – Fear  
>  **Words:** 303 words
> 
> I did say that the good times couldn't last. There's going to be consequences for Blackwall's lies and how he left her the last time and they feed into her insecurities. In time, they'll mend it. I promise that the next one will be much... lighter.


	5. vultures all start circling

There’s very little of interest in the Wastes. Nothing but a sea of sand that stretches as far as the eye can see. Aside from the Venatori in the area and the dwarven ruins scattered about, there’s nothing of interest here.

Inessa would be content to say to the Void with this place, but they cannot allow the Venatori to grab even the slightest advantage over them. After Adamant, they will be even more desperate, and she knows from experience that there is nothing like desperation to fuel a cause. The Inquisition cannot allow the Venatori to claim whatever lies hidden beneath the sands of the Hissing Wastes.

Of course, with the temperatures being what they are, they must wait for nightfall to venture out.

The days are for lazing about in tents, drinking and chatting absently.

There’s time for lovemaking.

Blackwall’s beard is scratchy against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. But it feels _delightful_ and she arches up, hand over her mouth to silence herself. There may be scouts about, and this moment is just for the two of them.

He leaves her trembling in the aftershocks of her climax, melting into that lovely feeling that comes after. She feels loose, relaxed, the tension having bled out of her. She feels lethargic, like she could happily sleep for days.

His beard is wet and sticky, but Inessa doesn’t care as she gently tugs him up to kiss him. He tastes of her and it’s intoxicating; she’ll never get enough of _this_. Of knowing that someone _wants_ her, loves her. She will never grow tired of being _loved_.

For the rest of her life, she will treasure these days. Sticky with sweat from the desert’s heat, but feeling more content than she can ever remember being. Peaceful days are rare to come by for the both of them and she will treasure each and everyone of them; holding them close to her heart to warm it in the darker times.

She loves him. Inessa knows this with clarity and tells him so as she kisses him.

Blackwall pauses, pulls back a little. There’s something in his eyes that she can’t read. Something hard and sad in the line of his mouth. She wants to ask, but there’s no chance to.

He presses his forehead to hers, a small smile on his face, “No matter what comes, I will always love you, Inessa.”

She loves how her name sounds on his lips, in his voice. It’s enough for her to forget that sadness, that strange look in his eyes when she said the words.

For the moment, for the next few days, she forgets of it. Lost in the sweet haze of loving and being loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 027\. Desert  
>  **Words:** 457 words
> 
> A little bit of fluff and some sexual content. Easing myself back into it, but I'm enjoying writing these; there's something to be said about not having to write with the weight of a huge, multi-chaptered arc on my shoulders. There's some foreshadowing in here, but that's easy to pick up on. :)


	6. my roots they run deep

Growing up, Inessa had always been _Adaar_ to the other members of the mercenary company. She was their mage. End of story. Her parents had left the Qun because of the restrictions – _because they fell in love_ , her father used to say. Yet, it felt that they were just as restricted here, in the South.

She’s never seen Par Vollen. Her parents told her virtually nothing of the Qun. The Qun was relegated to hushed whispers in the dead of night, when they believed she was asleep. It became more frantic when her magic awakened.

Her parents left the Qun so she could have a life of her choosing. They left so that she could be free.

There is a lot of hiding in Inessa’s life.

People in the south forget that the qunari have mages. Or they know, but think of them as the bound creatures that her parents whispered of. That her father once had been. That was why his hair was shorn, his horns broken stumps.

She remembers the feeling of the scars on his lips when he kissed her cheeks, her forehead. How her father smiled and the scars would stretch as he did. It would have been her fate, too, had she been born under the Qun. The life of a Saarebas. It’s no life to live.

The life an apostate is a free one. She can go where she wants, do what she wants. But all the work she can find is mercenary. She joined the same company that her parents had been members of when she was old enough. For a qunari in southern Thedas, there are no other options. Freedom, she thinks, is an ideal and one worth fighting for, for fleeing, but for those born into it, it’s very different.

She prays to the Maker. She holds to the thought that this is the path He wants her to walk. That one day He will show her the path to something greater. Attending Chantry services is difficult, she gets nothing but looks of scorn and suspicion. Plenty of the members whisper to each other behind their hands and point at her, where she lingers at the rear.

The clergy that she asks questions of, however, are more than happy to answer her questions about the finer points of the Chant. One sister spent an entire afternoon with her, teaching her the entirety of the Chant and Inessa always remembers Sister Altessa in her prayers.

To most, Inessa is little more than a qunari. They pay no attention to the notion that she _could_ be a mage.

It’s how she remains free. She’s grateful for it.

She’s enjoyed the freedoms that her parents had dreamed of. She remembers greeting the sunrise each morning with her father, seeing the tears glisten on his lashes. Now, it makes her tear up whenever she sees one – the memory forever associated with her father. Her memories of him are precious things that she’s hoarded inside to keep with her.

Her memories of her mother are different. She remembers her mother’s callused hands, the sharpness of her eyes. Her mother’s wickedly clever tongue, how she could charm a man into paying them more for an assignment than originally agreed. That her mother made delicious little sticky sweet buns every year on Inessa’s birthday. That she would smooth back Inessa’s long hair, pull it back into a braid, and kiss her forehead; tell her how _proud I am of you, my little darling girl_.

She keeps those words deep inside of herself. Reminds herself of them deep in the night, whenever she runs a brush through her long hair. The colour reminds her of her father, a deep wine red that he’d kept closely trimmed to his head.

Her mother had sleek silver hair, than hung down to her waist when she let it down. Inessa keeps hers long in memory of her mother, because it reminds her that _yes I am a woman and I am beautiful_. It’s the only bit of vanity that she indulges in, one known only to her.

No one else notices her long hair. She keeps it braided up around her head, out of the way for combat and to keep it from becoming a horribly tangled mess. Inessa learned once never to let Shokrakar even _attempt_ to detangle her hair.

She misses her mother’s hands, the way that she ran them through her hair. Inessa can still recall how it felt; soft caresses and large warm hands cupping the back of her head. Fingers running over the stumps where her horns had begun to grow in.

 _My beautiful girl_.

Her mother always called her that. Inessa holds it close to her heart. She always tries to be the beautiful girl that her mother saw, gave birth to, loved.

When she’s declared the Herald of Andraste, Inessa hopes that she’s made them proud.

She’s finally free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 046\. Early  
>  **Words:** 826 words
> 
> Mostly introspective background here for Inessa, but that's important to set up too, isn't it? I would have had this up earlier, but it's my birthday today, so I had to squeeze some time in to get it up.


	7. leaving my life in your hands

It thuds low and heavy in his chest.

He hopes, but the rational part of him knows that it’s in vain.

No one, not even the Herald of Andraste, could survive a mountain falling on her.

He thinks of the radiant glow of her hair in the bright sun of Haven, how her smile took his breath away, and how her violet eyes had sparkled when he flirted with her. It’s hard to believe that a woman so beautiful, so strong, so sweet, could be gone.

Nothing about it is fair.

If anyone should have died, it should have been him. He died once. What’s one more death?

He prays to the Maker that she might yet live. He cannot live with the idea that the woman who made all of this happened, who looks at him and sees a man _worthy_ of _her_ , might be dead.

Blackwall takes the first watch, staring out into the blistering blizzard. Watching for what, he isn’t sure anymore. He hopes, prays, that she will come striding out of the snow, smiling brightly with a miraculous story to share of how she survived.

She won’t, he knows that. But he hopes. Oh, how he hopes…

Haven has gone. Not burned, but buried.

As though taking back the very Herald that She delivered, Andraste has taken her Herald once more to her side.

It isn’t fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 018\. Destruction  
>  **Words:** 231 words
> 
> Some post-In Your Heart Shall Burn from Blackwall's POV. The next one is also from his POV.


	8. what you did

He leaves the letter and Inessa behind.

He cannot bear to see her face when she learns the truth about him. Of how he _lied_ to her.

He’s not who she thought he was. He is _nothing_ like the man she loved.

It’s better this way, he tells himself. Repeating that over and over as he leaves Skyhold in the dead of night is all that keeps him putting one foot in front of the other. It doesn’t matter to him that his heart aches worse and worse with every step away from her he takes.

With this, maybe he’ll prove worthy of her.

Inessa, though, is a beautiful woman. She deserves better than anything he can give her. And she’s young. It will take time, but she will move on, find someone else. She can learn to love again.

 _It’s better this way_.

She won’t know. He’ll be dead before she knows of it. Inessa will mourn. But the anger, he hopes, will outweigh the grief. And she will let him go. Maybe some part of him will linger on, able to watch over her until she finds new love.

That hurts. Like there’s a hole opening up inside of him. To know that someone else will come to know and love her as he has. It’s a jealous and dark thing that twists at his heart, that aches to keep her to himself. He can’t. He absolutely cannot, he knows that. She deserves someone more than him; someone who can give her everything she deserves and more.

That person is not him. It was never going to be him.

 _It’s better this way_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 025\. Goodbye  
>  **Words:** 275 words
> 
> We will return to your regularly scheduled fluff shortly.


	9. all your flaws and scars

She pauses at the bottom of the stairs. The anger’s long since burned out of her, leaving nothing but a lingering sorrow in its wake. There’s an emptiness inside of her, a numbness, that wasn’t there before. It’s cooled everything, leaving her thoughts in icy clarity.

Her decision is already made.

She counts the cells as she passes them. Thom Rainier – the man _she_ knew as Warden Blackwall – is in the last cell. He’s sitting on the narrow bench, hunched over. He looks nothing like the proud, good man that she knew and loves – the man who _loves_ her.

Inessa had wondered, how they could be the same person. But people, she knows, are not the same from day-to-day. She herself is not the woman she was when she first stumbled out of a rift at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

People change.

She lingers outside of the cell, watching him. It surprises her that her heart aches to see him like this. Now he’s truly broken. Her heart throbs at the sight, she wants to tear open the door and wrap her arms around him, telling him that she knows the truth now and that _it does not matter_.

She doesn’t know what to say to him. The words have evaporated from the tip of her tongue.

“I didn’t take Blackwall’s life,” he says, breaking the silence for her. “I traded his death. He wanted me for the Wardens, but there was an ambush. Darkspawn. He was killed. I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man. But a good man, the man he was, wouldn’t have let another die in his place.”

“You had to know that I wouldn’t let you just… disappear and die.”

He won’t meet her eyes, just stares at the floor, “I didn’t… want you to see me like this. Better you remember me as you thought I was. Not as I really am.”

“You’re a good man – who just did something very brave,” Inessa replies, voice soft and even.

Maybe it’s her tone. Maybe it’s her words. But it strikes a chord in him.

He surges to his feet, closing the distance between him and the bars in two long strides. He slams into it, hands fisting the bars, “Don’t you understand?! _I_ gave the order to kill Lord Callier, his entourage, and _I_ lied to my men about what they were doing! When it came to light, I _ran_.”

There are tremors in his hands from how tightly he grips the bars, shaking them, “Those men, _my men_ , paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man! _This_ is what I am. A murderer, a traitor… a _monster_.”

He sinks to his knees on the cold, hard ground, taking Inessa’s heart down with him. He sags against the bars, and when he next speaks, his voice is choked and broken, “Wouldn’t you be happier thinking I was a noble man, a _Grey Warden_ , instead of this? I would’ve saved you the pain of learning who I was. That all you knew of me was a lie. That you _loved_ a lie.”

She kneels down on the other side of the bars, laying a hand over his, “No. I love the man that you became – the one that you _are_ , truly.”

Inessa squeezes his hand, “I know the truth now. Whatever comes next, comes. It will work out. I promise.”

He says nothing, simply remains where he is.

She smiles sadly. Her first love and her only turns out like this. The Maker certainly does move in mysterious ways. With a last squeeze of her hand, she leaves.

Cullen waits for her when she emerges from the cells, report in hand, “I have Leliana’s report on Thom Rainier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 050\. Truth  
>  **Words:** 638 words


	10. how you shake my core

Her hands close around the cool metal and wood of the badge. Inessa stares at it, confusion bubbling up within her. _Where’s Blackwall?_

She remembers falling asleep with him, her head pillowed on his shoulder, her hair free and falling down her back the way that he liked it. His arms had been warm and strong around her, callused fingers running through her hair and soothing her into falling asleep.

He’s gone.

Pushing herself up, she pulls the blanket up and over her breasts. He’s nowhere to be seen in the loft.

“Blackwall?” she calls, softly.

There’s no answer.

Her dress is exactly where she left it the night before, slung over one of the railings of the rafters. Inessa sheds her blanket cocoon, sliding into the familiar fabric. Her underwear, on the other hand, is a lost cause and she abandons it where it lies in shreds on the floor. She steps into her shoes, pulling the lacing snug.

Blackwall isn’t on the lower level either. His workshop is abandoned, tools neatly laid out on the work table with the mostly finished carving he’d been working on.

There’s a note pinned to it.

She pulls it free, unfolds it. It’s short, but it cuts her deeply.

‘ _There is little I can say that will ease this pain. Just know that while it hurt to leave, it would’ve hurt more if I stayed. I am deeply sorry._ ’

He’s gone.

Her knees crumple underneath her. She falls into the dirt, knees stinging with pain, tears welling up and spilling forth. She weeps into her hands, tears causing the ink on the note to smudge, but she doesn’t care. Something dark and cold has opened up within her, swallowing up everything that she is.

The messenger that eventually comes finds her like that: broken and grieving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 095\. Betrayal  
>  **Words:** 304 words


	11. i will transform

“I had not expected… that you would believe in the Maker,” Cassandra says.

“Because I’m a qunari?”

“Well, yes. I apologize, it was rude and wrong of me to think so.”

Inessa smiles, “No, I get that a lot. When I was younger, I would pester the Sisters of every Chantry that we passed by to teach me more. I think they were confused but flattered that I believed. That I wanted to know more.”

She looks down at her hands, “But the Maker… knowing that He has a plan for each of us brings me comfort. To know that I am a part of His plans and that I am where I should be. It’s very reassuring to me to know that everything I have gone through, lived, has led to now. That it all means something.”

Cassnadra nods, “I understand perfectly. When Anthony… the Maker may not always be kind, but I, too, take comfort in knowing that He has a plan for each of us.”

“That we are all loved.”

“You have been listening to Leliana again, haven’t you.”

“She’s very convincing,” Inessa replies, laughing softly. “And what she says is quite beautiful. I agree with her; we are each loved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 076\. Faith  
>  **Words:** 204 words


	12. can't write my story

“Magic exists to serve man, and not rule over him,” Inessa recites.

“And what does that mean for us?” her father asks.

Her face wrinkles up, thinking, “It means our magic is meant to serve others. It’s a tool, but not one to abuse.”

“That’s right.”

He ruffles her hair, running fingers through the strands and Inessa preens at her father’s praise. She leans into the touch, and her father, enjoying the warmth that pours off of him.

“Someone’s been busy, I see,” her mother says. “Have you been bothering those… Sisters again, Inessa dear?”

“No, mother. They’re always quite happy to answer my questions,” Inessa replies. Her brows furrow, she doesn’t quite understand sometimes, why the Sisters are surprised to hear her asking questions about the Chant. “When I say that I’m Andrastian, they… look… like father does when you tell him you love him.”

Her mother pauses, then laughs.

“My dear, they don’t expect us to be Andrastian,” her mother soothes. “But knowing that you are? Likely brings them something like peace. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Her mother says that a lot. There’s a great many things that Inessa will ‘understand when she’s older’. She wants to be able to know what it is that her parents aren’t telling her, because she knows that there’s a lot she’s not privy to.

“When will I be old enough?” she asks.

Her father crouches down, hands resting on her shoulders. His smile, she notices, is slightly sad. She regrets the question now; she doesn’t like it when her father’s sad.

“You’ll know when you are,” her father says. “Because when you are, you’ll understand.”

She frowns, “That’s not an answer.”

“I know, but that’s how things are sometimes.”

Her mother, gently gathering her hair into a braid, has the answer – as she always does. “Your Maker has a plan for us all, Inessa. He will reveal the answer to you in time. You simply must have faith in him that He knows when the right time is.”

Inessa nods. The Maker has a plan. She may not know what it is, but He does.

It will be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 003\. Memory  
>  **Words:** 360 words


	13. like rain and blue skies

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Inessa says softly, laying a hand on Blackwall’s injured arm.

He grins at her, “Anything to protect you, my lady.”

She glances away, at the waterfall that tumbles down from the lake above – the lake where they met, she thinks – to hide the flush in her cheeks. He smiles at her and it sends butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach.

She likes him. More than she should.

“Vivienne would have shielded me. And besides, I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

She’d rather see none of them hurt, but her magical abilities are a little lacking when it comes to healing. It’s simply not something that she has a disposition for; only Solas has any talent for it, and even he pales in comparison to a true healer.

He lays a hand over hers, giving it a squeeze, and smiles softly at her, “My lady, I would give more for you if the occasion called for it. You don’t have the luxury of caring for me so.”

“But I do,” she says, swallowing hard. “Maker knows I do.”

“I know you do. It’s the same for me.” He looks at her, leaning in closer.

Her eyes flutter closed.

The kiss is soft and brief, just the barest brush of his lips against hers. It’s over in a heartbeat. But it sends hers pounding.

 _Yes,_ she thinks, _I want this. I want more_.

Her eyes open. Blackwall smiles at her and she smiles back.

For now, though, she’s content to enjoy the peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 042\. Lake  
>  **Words:** 261 words


	14. the world you brought to life

“I’m… late.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My course. It’s late.”

He blinks. Stares. “You – then. It could just be a coincidence, right?”

She frowns, bites her lip, “It could… they’ve been fairly irregular since, well, the temple. But they’ve never been _this_ late before.”

Inessa hadn’t given it much thought. Her courses had always been regular, but the stresses after the Temple of Sacred Ashes had disrupted them. But it’s been two months now and that’s the longest she’s gone between them since.

She hadn’t thought – it shouldn’t be possible, should it?

“I think I might be pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 051\. Late  
>  **Words:** 100 words


	15. took us a while

Her stomach swells over time. Inessa regards it with a feeling of wonder in the mirror, not minding the stretch marks along the sides. She hadn’t thought that motherhood was in the cards for her, but things change. She has a new family now.

“I’ll take care of the guest list, of course,” Josephine says, tapping her fingers against her clipboard.

“Guest list?” Inessa asks, jolted out of her thoughts.

“For the baby shower,” Vivienne says, looking up from the periodical she’s reading. “You’re the Inquisitor, my dear. The nobility will be lining up to pay their respects to your future child; it will be a chance for them to curry favour with both the Inquisition and the Divine.”

“I suppose so… but I’d really rather have it be a small, private affair.”

Josephine smiles and lays a hand on Inessa’s forearm, “I’ve already sent the invitations out to our friends – they should be arriving here within the next few days. I hope you don’t mind that I took the initiative.”

She smiles. It’s been too long since she’s seen the others, “No, that sounds perfect. But how–”

“I, ah, spoke with Rainier,” Josephine replies, colour high in her cheeks. “He shared the news with me several weeks ago. I do believe that I’ve never seen the man so… shocked before.”

She laughs, “Oh, I think the both of us were. This might be a first.”

“It’s certainly caused quite the stir at court. But nothing that cannot be smoothed over,” Vivienne replies, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Your reputation, your deeds, your status – not to mention your relationship with the Divine – have all made sure that no one has spoken ill of the good news.”

It’s also incredibly likely that no one would dare speak badly of her or the child she carries for fear that they might end up on the legendary Madame de Fer’s bad side. Vivienne’s been busy, traveling between the capital and Skyhold as the official ambassador between the court and the Inquisition, but Inessa’s simply grateful that she’s here.

Skyhold’s not been the same without her friends.

Pressing her hand over the slight bump of her stomach, Inessa smiles a little, private smile. She’s looking forward to seeing them all again. And going forward into this next, new stage of her life with them at her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 047\. Family  
>  **Words:** 398 words


	16. won't just survive

She takes to the frontlines with Vivienne. Their blades are glowing, bright and beacons on the field. Her spirit blade hums in her hand, pulsing each time the blade extends from its hilt.

The thrill of battle is in her veins, heart pounding in her ears and excitement in her veins.

Cassandra is to her right, shield at the ready and blade already glistening with blood. A little ahead of her and to the left, Bull has carved an entire path through the Venatori ranks, leaving little but bloody and dismembered corpses in his wake.

She can feel Blackwall at her back, guarding their rear flank. Her heart sings a little song, but she squashes down the silly smile that wants to form.

Later, she tells herself. She can indulge herself later.

For now, her blade is calling her to battle and she will answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 089\. Spirit  
>  **Words:** 145 words


	17. and just like that

The burning in her hand is what wakes her.

Inessa opens her eyes, blinking until her vision stops blurring at the edges. There’s bright green light emanating up from near the floor, and she wonders who could create such light.

When she looks down, she realizes that _she_ is the source of the light. It comes bleeding out from deep, glowing cracks that spread up her hand from the palm of her hand. Each pulse comes with more light, pain flaring up her arm.

She stares at it, questions running through her mind in a blur.

_What is it? What happened? Where am I?_

There’s a terrible, black gaping hole in her memory. The last thing she remembers is…

The Conclave. She was with the others, they were to provide extra security to the Conclave. Her memory ends with the discussion with the templars about where they would be stationed. And an assurance that no, of course there weren’t any apostates in their number.

But… Inessa looks up, looks around at the dimly lit room she’s in.

She has no idea how she got here. Why she’s here. Nor why, she realizes, she’s been chained to the floor.

What has happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 008\. Life  
>  **Words:** 201 words


	18. got me rolling the dice

He doesn’t actually think anything is wrong until he collapses in his little barn workshop.

Of course, Blackwall had noticed the fever and dizziness. How could he not? But it was just a passing illness and he would be over it in no time. There wasn’t time for anyone to be worrying over him and besides, the healers have better things to be doing with their time then tending to one sick man.

It’s just his luck that Inessa is the one who finds him.

He doesn’t remember anything – not her panicked words, shaking him, nor the long climb to her quarters during which _she_ carried _him_ there herself. No, his first memory is blinking his eyes open to the flickering of firelight and a bed far too soft to be his at his back.

“Blackwall? How do you feel?”

Ah, now _there_ is a beautiful sight.

Inessa leans over him, gently cupping the side of his face with one large, cool hand. She peers at him, her eyes glittering and violet in the light from the fire. There’s a little wrinkle of worry between her brows, but she’s a lovely sight to his fever addled mind all the same.

“I’ve been better.” He doesn’t sound it and he swallows. His voice is rough, scratchy, and speaking is like dragging his throat across hot coals.

“Hold on, I’ll get you some water.”

She vanishes from his line of sight, but he weakly turns his head and sees her pouring out a goblet of water from a pitcher on her dresser. She’s back at his side in moment, cupping his head and helps him to take two great, gulping swallows before she pulls it back. He’s too weak to stop her.

“How–”

“I carried you.” She blinks once, twice, in confusion. Then, she sets the goblet on a table that’s been moved to the side of her bed and settles herself on the edge of it. “You don’t remember?”

He pauses, then shakes his head.

Inessa’s smile is soft and chases away the remaining worry in her eyes, “It’s alright. You were very out of it. But the surgeon assures me that you will make a full recovery and, luckily for you, Hawke agrees.”

“Got the Champion’s seal of approval, then?”

He’s only just awoken, barely said anything, and already he’s exhausted. Sleep is becoming more and more appealing by the second. His eyes are drooping closed already.

“You do. Now rest. You need it.”

The last thing he remembers before he falls back into the blackness of sleep is Inessa’s lips pressing soft and warm against his forehead in a gentle kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 063\. Unwell  
>  **Words:** 443 words


	19. you were all for me

Growing up as she did, Inessa gave little thought to love. She was surrounded by it: her parents loved each other, loved her, loved one another enough to give up everything and everyone they had ever known to be able to enjoy that love. But as she had grown older, Inessa had never thought that she herself would get to experience what her parents had.

Her social circle was small, largely consisting of the other members of her mercenary group, and all of them had seen her grow up – had known her since she had still been a tiny child with nothing but stubs for horns.

It would be too awkward and they are family to her.

Being declared the _Herald of Andraste_ comes as a shock to her. As does the mark in her hand that allows her to close the rips that have torn open across Thedas. It also, she thinks slyly, should help her chances in 

the romance department.

Before, she was just another qunari mercenary, hoping and praying that no one would realize that she’s an apostate. And _now_ , she’s the Herald of Andraste, chosen by the Bride of the Maker herself who led Inessa from the Fade and Thedas’ only hope for closing the Breach that roars open above their heads.

Of course, with her luck as it is, she strikes out the first time.

Cassandra doesn’t mind the flirting, though, so Inessa keeps it up – even though she’s all too aware that the former Seeker isn’t interested in her like that at all. It’s a little disappointing, because she’s a beautiful woman and _everything_ about her is Inessa’s type. She’s strong, faithful, and beautiful. Inessa finds her stubbornness charming, rather than off-putting.

Still, the Maker has plans for them all.

Flirting with Blackwall, she expects the same reaction that she got from Cullen – who politely told her that he was ‘spoken for’ but that he was flattered anyway. Or that he’s simply not interested in a woman who towers over him.

That is not the case.

Warden Blackwall addresses her as ‘ _my lady_ ’ and flirts right back, smirk tugging up his beard and mustache. He’s an oddly charming man – and a very sweet one too. It’s not long before Inessa’s completely smitten with him.

He’s handsome, charming, and genuinely cares about their cause and the people that they help. She catches sight of him in the camp, more than once, with a gaggle of small children hanging off of him. It makes her smile, filling her with a warmth that she never thought she would get to experience.

She thinks she might be falling for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 014\. Love  
>  **Words:** 446 words


	20. our share of mistakes

“So… how much of what you told me was real?”

“Didn’t really know much about the real Blackwall. And I didn’t know how much you know, so I had to be… vague. But everything outside of Warden business, that was all true.”

“I think… we need to start from the beginning. I feel like I hardly know you now.”

“That’s fair. I’ll… be honest. I didn’t expect that you’d come back for me, much less offer me a second chance at… at us. I’m grateful. And I’ll make it up to you – I swear it. So, what would you like to know?”

“Everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 045\. fake  
>  **Words:** 104


	21. caught in a landslide

“Ah yes, the ‘Inquisitor’. I’m flattered to be facing _you_. What if there is no purpose to your existence? You will live and die, your life will have meant nothing when you fail. And when you do, I will take great pleasure in tormenting the one you love. And you do love him, don’t you?”

Inessa grits her teeth, bites back the bile that burns at the back of her throat. She twirls her staff, cutting through the fearlings that take the horrifying, twisted forms of those she loves. _They’re not real_ , she tells herself. But they’re very convincing. It’s hard to remember, here in the Fade, where everything is both real and not real, that she’s not slaughtering her way through the ranks of her friends.

“And who is to say he loves _you_? How could he love you? An oxwoman. Ha! The very thought of _you_ being loved is laughable. You’re no lady – just an _animal_ playing dress-up!”

“I am more than what you believe me to be,” Inessa grits out. “And I _will_ have your head, Nightmare, before this debacle ends.”

Nightmare laughs, “Oh my, but you _are_ amusing! And such fun to play with. What shall I send against you next? Temptation? Another nightmare? You believe that your fear will make you stronger. You’re wrong. All it does is strengthen _me_.”

“We _will_ prevail. We must.”

“Tell yourself whatever you wish, Inquisitor. It makes no difference to me. I haven’t been this entertained in _ages_.”

Nightmare weighs heavily on all of them, she can see it in the lines of their faces. How each of her companions – even Hawke and Stroud – have bloodless faces. Whatever they are each seeing, it is clearly taking its toll on them.

They need to escape. She must lead them out of here. And quickly.

It’s not just they who are being tormented. Inessa isn’t sure how much more of this she can take.

She must fight on. She has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 028\. Illusions  
>  **Words:** 333 words


	22. victory is in my veins

Haven burns.

She’s being overdramatic. There wasn’t much in Haven to begin with aside from the Chantry – the growing Inquisition had been little more than a collection of stone and wood huts and a sea of tents. There is very little to burn, but the tents go up and the sky is clogged with smoke.

“My lady,” Blackwall says. “Be careful You – please come back.”

She smiles. Then, because it’s likely the last chance she’ll get, she leans down and kisses him _hard_. When she pulls back, she’s breathless and still smiling.

“I’ll return to _you_ – you have my word.”

Spinning her staff, she charges back into Haven, ducking through ruined buildings and taking advantage of the blowing smoke for cover. There are red templars everywhere and it takes every bit of skill that Inessa possesses to reach the trebuchet.

If it’s the last thing she does, she will bring the entire mountain down on Haven and this Elder One.

It takes her longer than she would have liked to reach the trebuchet. And when she reaches it, she finds that she isn’t alone.

The Anchor pulses, hot and green, like she plunged her hand into a vat of hot ashes. She crumples to her knees, biting down on her lip to keep from crying out. But _Maker_ , does it hurt.

When she looks up, she comes face to face with the Elder One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 036\. Enemy  
>  **Words:** 237 words
> 
> Time to get caught up on these. I ended up being a _little_ side-tracked by finishing all the prompts for a ship week I was doing in another fandom, but I'm certain I can manage to get myself caught up as best I can. Miss me?


	23. make my heart beat like a drum

She’s always been better with lightning than she has been with ice.

Compared to Vivienne, her ice spells are clumsy, but with the proliferation of rage demons from the rifts, Inessa recognizes the necessity of mastering her weaknesses.

“Teach me to use ice,” she asks Vivienne one day.

Her lessons begin that day.

“Ice requires detachment. A cool veneer of disinterest, but an iron core. You cannot afford to be weak, or your ice will be weak.” Vivienne smiles, “You proved your strength when you became a knight-enchanter. Use that as your core.”

She remembers the strength, takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes. What she needs is to be able to pull on that with a moment’s notice; she must evaluate the battlefield as she always does – on the frontline. Then, note where she’s most needed and the others will follow.

Her first spell explodes outwards, sending shards of ice flying in every direction. Inessa does not flinch when they pass her.

Vivienne nods, “Good. You’re off to an excellent start, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 093\. Ice  
>  **Words:** 176 words
> 
> Sorry I disappeared for so long; I got caught up in trying to finish too many other things at once and this... fell a little to the wayside. I'll try to be better.


	24. want what you're running from

Inessa pulls her pillow over her head to block out the sunlight. Her head’s throbbing, throat dry, and she’s quite certain that she’s going to be sick.

“Did you go drinking with Bull? I should’ve warned you,” Blackwall murmurs, and even that sounds is enough to have her hissing. He chuckles at her, but gently pats her shoulder. “Hold on.”

She can hear him moving about the room, the clicking of a door opening and closing. There’s the sound of water being poured, and the thought of it alone is enough for her to poke her head out from its pillow protection to squint in its direction.

Inessa regrets it. The light filtering in through the windows is _blinding_ – like daggers stabbing into her eyes. She squeezes them closed and groans, flopping onto her back with an arm slung over her eyes.

“I’ll go see if Dorian’s got anymore of that hangover cure of his,” Blackwall says, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.

“Dorian’s got a cure?” she slurs.

“Well, he certainly wouldn’t share it with _me_ , but I think he’d make an exception for your sake.”

“He’d _better_.”

“I’ll pass that along, my lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 059\. Intoxicated  
>  **Words:** 197 words


	25. know it's gonna be a long time

She’s especially proud of her hair.

It’s long, tumbling down her back to her waist. Her mother kept her hair short and her father had no hair to speak of. But Inessa’s always taken great pride in her hair; the one bit of femininity that she’s been allowed to keep over the years.

Despite the inconveniences, she’s kept it. Certainly, she has to care for it herself. No one else in her mercenary company cared to help her with it. Since it spends much of its time tightly braided up around her horns, it’s acquired for itself a delicate curl that Josephine tells her the courtly ladies would be quite jealous of.

Inessa sweeps the length of her hair over a shoulder in a loose, low ponytail. Whenever she’s in Skyhold, she prefers to keep it down. It’s nice to finally have the chance to do so. When she does paperwork, sometimes she’ll sweep it back into a bun at the nape of her neck, simply to keep it from falling into the ink.

Blackwall enjoys it when her hair is down. He runs his fingers through it, resting against the side of her chair as she reads reports, files her own.

He’s quite fascinated with it, she knows, because he’s always running his fingers through it; enjoying the play of light through it. He tells her its lovely and what a fine beauty she is.

And each time, she flushes and smiles, ducking her head.

He’ll chuckle, bump her gently under the chin, and then kiss her softly till she giggles too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 068\. Words  
>  **Words:** 263 words


	26. just want to hold you

The cold is bitter and bites easily through the chinks in her armour.

In Haven, it had been tolerable. The howling winds hadn’t been too terrible, only really blowing into full force in the dead of night – when people but the nightwatch were securely tucked inside their beds.

She almost misses the shelter of the tunnels. At least there, there was no wind.

Stumbling along, she sinks into the snow – occasionally up to her hip. Her fingers are tingling, and it’s only the careful application of magic that keeps the feeling in them, though Inessa knows that she’s only staving off the inevitable for the time being. Soon, she won’t have the energy.

It’s all she can do, stumble along, unable to see but a scant foot in front of her, and pray to the Maker to guide her feet.

For what feels like a very long time, she sees no other signs of the Inquisition. Any footprints left have been obliterated by the blizzard raging around her. The Frostbacks, Inessa knows from word of mouth, are a cruel mountain range – still populated largely by the Avaar – but now that she experiences it firsthand, she knows there would have been no preparing for it.

Her staff had been snapped during her altercation with the Elder One: Corypheus.

Inessa shoves her hands under her arms and hunches her back, trying her best to conserve heat. She sends careful pulses of magic through her body, warming her body as best she can. Occasionally, her left hand pulses with energy, shooting tingles up her arm. At the very least, they no longer feel as though fire is racing under her skin.

She stumbles across a wagon, not fully buried by the snow. She recognizes the insignia emblazoned on the torn fabric covering it.

_The Inquisition was here_.

Inessa sucks in a deep breath. She’s headed in the right direction. Though it takes effort, she wills her feet to continue to carry her, to push on. She knows that if she lays down now, if she stops, that she will never move again.

And there are too many people counting on her for her to give up now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** 004\. lost  
>  **Words:** 368 words


End file.
